


Button Up Your Overcoat

by DiminutiveFox



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Autumn, Best Friends, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8234314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiminutiveFox/pseuds/DiminutiveFox
Summary: A collection of short fics filled from an Autumnal/Fall prompt list found on tumblr! Mainly featuring Steve and Bucky through the years, other Avengers popping in now and then.





	1. Autumn Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, it's becoming clear that I am a huge sap, so here's more fluffy, hurt/comfort and lots of snuggles.   
> As before, I've written them as sharing a very close platonic intimacy but lets be real it's shippy if you want it to be, but I haven't written anything overtly shippy yet so, no kissing at this point in time. But plenty of banter and sass to make up for it!

_Brooklyn 1935_

“Come on, keep up Stevie.” Bucky slowed his stride again, waiting for Steve to catch up. He hadn’t realised he was walking too fast again.

“This ain’t some surprise double date again, is it?” Steve asked guardedly.

“Nah,” Bucky there his arm around Steve’s neck and tugged him into his side.

“Course not, didn’t spend hours preening before we went out.”

“Can’t a fella just enjoy a walk these days?”

“Didja have to drag me with you?”

“Fresh air’ll do ya good.” Bucky insisted. Steve had been bedridden for the last couple of days, falling ill almost as soon as the weather began to turn. It always happened. A little walk in the chill air would do him some good, a change of scenery from being stuck inside and a chance to stretch his legs. Bucky didn’t intend to be out long, just a little jaunt around the block and through the little park.

“Sure is nice out, huh?” Bucky asked, grinning. Late afternoon sunshine was painting everything golden and the leaves had begun to fall thick and fast. A few of them drifted around them as they walked.

“Yeah, Buck, it’s nice.” A leaf landed in Steve’s hair and Bucky barked a short laugh before grabbing it and throwing it aside and ruffling Steve’s hair in the process.

“Hey! Quit it!” Steve jabbed him hard in the ribs which only made Bucky laugh all the more.

“Ain’t got the strength to go toe-to-toe with me yet, pal.” He quipped.

“Ain’t ever stopped me before.” Steve grinned back, “Besides, don’t need strength to get you.” Steve’s grin turned even more mischievous as he jabbed Bucky in the ribs again, lingering to find the ticklish spot whilst simultaneously sticking his foot out tripping Bucky.

“Ah! You little punk!” Bucky gasped out as he jerked away and just managed to keep his balance, leaves scuffing up around him. “Gee, you try to do somethin’ nice for your pal. Look at this will ya?” Bucky gestured ahead of them, his sweeping arm taking in all the gold, reds and yellows of the trees in the park. “Always take you to nice places and this is the thanks I get?”

“Alright, alright. Thanks for walking me round the block.” Steve said with a disparaging grin.

Bucky straightened his jacket and brushed himself down, repairing the damage the little tussle had done.

“You could paint this, Steve.” He remarked, kicking up some of the dry leaves from the ground.

“Sure, if I had some paints.”

“Could sketch it just as well.” Bucky watched as Steve took in the colours, the shapes of things. It was as if Bucky could see Steve noticing all the details, committing everything to memory so he could in fact sketch it later.

Bucky let his eyes wonder too, scanning the grass, then, while Steve began walking ahead, Bucky bent to pick out a leaf.

“What are you up to?” Steve asked when he noticed Bucky was gathering a collection.

“Well, I was thinking we could keep some of these, then when we get some paints you can get the colours right.”

“You wanna take a bunch of leaves home?”

“It’d help right? You could take ‘em to your class. Hey, maybe I’ll just stuff ‘em in your shorts instead.”

“They’ll be a good reference, sure. But if I find any of ‘em where they’re not supposed to be there’s gonna be trouble.”

Bucky lightly punched Steve on the arm, “Or what?”

“Or you’ll find them somewhere you don’t want ‘em.” Steve threatened darkly before breaking off into a cough. Steve’s threat had very little effect on Bucky, he merely tugged Steve’s coat tighter about his small frame and continued walking on, occasionally nudging Steve with his elbow and watching him out of the corner of his eye. Just checking.


	2. Pumpkin Carving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has somehow managed to convince the Avengers crew into pumpkin carving!

_Avengers Compound - Post Winter Soldier_

Bucky eyed the pumpkin warily, knife held with casual confidence, poised, metal hand at his side.

“Why are we doing this?” Bucky asked, his eyes peering up at Steve from behind the dark curtain of his hair.

Steve shrugged and smiled, hefting his pumpkin onto the table next to Bucky’s.

“Well, it’s traditional, I guess. Lots of people do it. Why we’re doing it though…”

“It’s fun! That’s why, Cap.” Clint called from where he was currently working on his own pumpkin, scooping out the insides. Steve had done his and Bucky’s both. Bucky had started his but… It hadn’t gone too well and so Steve had hastily taken over.

“Clint made us all do it last year. It was actually kinda fun.” Steve admitted as he sat opposite Bucky. Bucky nodded and went back to contemplating his pumpkin.

“What should I do?”

“You can carve anything you like.” Clint said over his shoulder. “Though I’d advise not trying to do anything super complicated like I did last year. Man, that was a mistake.”

Steve smiled at the memory of Clint’s failed pumpkin mess.

“Yeah, keep it simple, kid. Keep it simple.” Clint said, mostly to himself it seemed.

Steve watched as Bucky switched the knife to his metal hand and lay his flesh hand against the pumpkins smooth orange skin.

“Decided what you’re doing yet, Cap?” Clint asked, hefting a large scoop of seeds out into the sink.

“Dunno, thought the shield would be a little cliché.”

“True.”

“So I thought I might try the Brooklyn bridge at night.”

“Whoah! Didn’t you hear the whole ‘keep it simple’ shpeal I just gave?” Clint exclaimed. Steve just smiled and gave him a half shrug.

“Alright man, do your thing.” Clint turned his attention back to scooping out his pumpkin.

“What about you, Buck? Any ideas?” Steve asked.

Bucky stared at the pumpkin as if expecting an answer to make itself known somehow. Steve waited, sometimes it took a little time. Eventually Bucky shrugged.

“That’s alright, just see what comes to ya.”

Steve took up his own knife and began work on his masterpiece, it was a full ten minutes before Bucky started to work on his. Steve tried not to stare, tried not to count the minutes, tried to be good and not peek. He didn’t want Bucky to feel like he was under any pressure. So, Steve focussed on tracing out the shapes and the skyline he knew so well. Clint had joined them at the table, sitting slightly aside from them, separated by a bunch of pumpkins waiting for the others to collect them and do their own carvings.

Another ten minutes passed, Steve sat back to stretch his back out and take a good look at his work so far. As he leaned back he risked a look over at Bucky who happened to be looking up at him, perhaps distracted by the movement.

“Alright, pal?”

Bucky nodded the smallest of nods.

“Can I take a look?”

Bucky’s hands hesitated briefly before turning the pumpkin so that the carved side faced Steve.

“Hey, would’ya look at that?” Steve said, impressed. A fair representation of the wing design on the side of Steve’s helmet adorned the pumpkin. Steve hadn’t known what to expect, he’d hoped having something creative to do with his hands would help Bucky focus on something good and calming. And it seemed to be working so far.

“It looks great, really. Keep going, you’re doing fine.”

“Maybe go a little deeper.” Clint advised, “Want the light to shine through it properly for best effect.” 

Bucky seemed to consider it, then turned the pumpkin back and reapplied himself to the job. Steve smiled at his bent head and intense focus. He rolled his wrist and went back to carving out some of the thinner lines that would be the cables on the bridge.

After a few minutes Steve caught sight of a sudden movement from Bucky. It was small, almost like a flinch. Steve wanted to ignore it, trust that it was just a twitch or an itch. But he’d been learning tell-tale signs of oncoming incidents. Besides, he had always been able to read Bucky like an open book.

In the next minute Steve watched from the corner of his eye as Bucky’s movements became steadily and increasingly more tense.  Steve saw him make several attempts to continue carving his pumpkin but his hand had started shaking. Clint noticed too, of course he would, and exchanged a look with Steve, silently asking if he should leave. Steve used a team hand signal for ‘stay’ down by his side where he knew Clint would see but Bucky couldn’t. If Clint stood now and if Bucky had been triggered or spooked by something, and still held a knife in his hand Clint could easily become a target.

“Buck?” Steve asked, low, soft. Like he was talking to a skittish animal. He hated that he’d had to use it for Bucky, the same guy he’d had to yell at to get out of bed when they were kids. The same guy he had sung raucously loud with in a pub in London during the war. The same guy who had never babied him or handled him as if he were fragile, even when he had been. Bucky had been gentle when needed, but he’d never made Steve feel as if he was made of glass. Steve desperately hoped he was doing as good of a job now it was his turn.

But now Bucky was rubbing at his forehead with the back of his metal hand and his grip on the knife was white knuckled.

“Buck, hey, Bucky.” Steve tried again. Bucky shook his head, hair covering his face, a tremor running through him visible from across the table. Steve could hear him mumble low under his breath. He glanced aside to Clint who hadn’t moved. He had his hearing aids in and might have been able to hear the mumbling too, but he gave no outward sign. He just sat where he was, still carving his pumpkin, glancing up every now and then, taking a read of the situation.

Steve squashed his natural inclination to rush over and pull Bucky into a hug. Even if he hadn’t been armed it was rarely a good idea to manhandle him without warning.

“Bucky, I’m coming over to you, ohkay?” Steve said. He stood slowly, giving Bucky time to tell him no if he needed space. Steve would have preferred to ask more directly, but he’d learned that a barrage of questions wasn’t always helpful. If he just told Bucky what he planned on doing then Bucky could tell him no if he needed to, a choice was too hard sometimes. Steve worried that saying ‘no’ was too much sometimes as well after having gone so long without that option.

He knelt next to Bucky, close up Steve could see he’d gone pale, his breathing was too shallow, too quick.

“Buck, can you put down the knife?”

Bucky did, instantly. Too quickly, almost like had burned him. His hands scrabbled on the table top for a moment, then pulled at his sleeves harshly.

“I’m gonna hold your hands, ‘kay Buck?”

Steve couldn’t tell if Bucky had nodded or if he was just shaking so hard. So, Steve cautiously held out his hands, palms up. Bucky moved aside from the table slightly, turning his body a little towards Steve and letting his hands fall into Steve’s open palms. He held Bucky’s hands firmly, but not tightly, he could pull free if he wanted.

“That’s great. Now, I need you to try and take a good deep breath for me, kay?”

Bucky looked like he was trying his best to regulate his breathing with marginal success.

“That’s it, keep going. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Steve asked, settling his balance, grateful that Clint was still hanging out at the table, but still giving them space.

Bucky made a noise like he wanted to talk but couldn’t get the words out.

Steve glanced around to see if he could spot any of the known things that had caused problem before. “Can you show me?”

Bucky pulled one of his hands free and gestured shakily at the pumpkin.

“Can’t.” He choked out, “The… thing, it’s-“ He swallowed thickly and screwed his eyes shut, hastily pushing the pumpkin away.

Steve carefully took his hand back and squeezed his fingers a little, just to provide some grounding pressure to get Bucky’s attention again.

“It’s alright, it’s okay. You don’t have to do it, it’s alright.”

Steve felt the tremor run through Bucky this time.

“Come on, let’s go to the couch, alright?” Steve met Clint’s eye from across the table, Clint nodded encouragingly, he’d clear up the mess, remove the evidence of the pumpkins, they could carve them later on somewhere else, or not, whichever. At that point Steve didn’t particularly care about the pumpkins beyond wondering what about it had triggered Bucky. He’d been edgy since the scooping part, maybe that and then the carving had felt like something else significantly less pleasant. His jaw tightened and his stomach turned as his imagination took him to rather gory and graphic thoughts before he snapped himself out of it.

He moved Bucky to the sofa and carefully sat him down. Clint brought over a bottle of water from the fridge and a damp cloth too.

“Thanks,”

“Welcome. Gimmie a call in a bit, yeah? I won’t be far, let me know if you need anything else.”

“Actually, before you go, could you bring Bucky’s blanket? The real heavy one?”

“Sure.”

Steve knelt in front of Bucky, his head was still bowed like he was trying to curl in on himself, he was doing a good job at getting his breathing under control. Steve still held Bucky’s metal hand, pressing a little harder to make sure Bucky felt it because although he’d seen Bucky handle things so gently, he still wasn’t sure how much feedback Bucky actually got. With his other hand Steve slowly reached up, pausing to ask,

“Is it ohkay if I touch your head?” When Bucky nodded, Steve continued his movement, brushing Bucky’s hair back to tuck it behind his ear.

“There you go, that’s it, just breathe. It’s alright, nothing to worry about, that’s it, just keep breathing like that, you’re doing real good.”

He kept up that litany until Clint returned, he carefully approached and at a nod from Steve he draped the heavy blanket over Bucky’s shoulders.

“There you go,” He said calmly and softly. “I’ll go clean up. See ya later.” He patted Bucky’s shoulders and nodded to Steve before returning to the kitchen.

The blanket had an almost immediate effect, Steve could see it happening and was filled with a renewed sense of gratitude for Sam and his knowledge of things like this. He’d been sceptical at first, wondering just how a heavy weighted blanket draped over you was supposed to be a calming thing, he’d always hated having things feel like they were crushing him, but Bucky had explained that it felt good. Like a hug, a comforting pressure. And, Steve had to admit, the blanket was very soft and warm.

“Feeling a little better?” He checked in. Bucky was able to nod properly this time, clearly a nod, not just a shaky jerk of the head.

“Here, drink a little.” Steve proffered him the water and Bucky took little sips until he’d managed to get his breathing back to normal and some colour returned to his cheeks. Steve smiled gently at him when some of the glassy expression left his eyes and he saw the tiredness set in. Even short attacks like this were exhausting.

“Hey, pal.” Steve said.

“Hey.” Bucky said quietly, but clearly.

“You need anything?”

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, by now Clint had cleared away the pumpkins and thanks to the AC there wasn’t even a lingering scent of pumpkin in the air. Bucky looked back to Steve.

“No, just, had a thing, with the pumpkins.”

“Yeah pal, wanna talk about it?”

“The insides, they didn’t feel good, and then, then the carving just-“ He trailed off. “Bad memory.” He explained shortly. Steve nodded. He’d thought as much.

“I want you to finish yours though.” Bucky said suddenly. “Don’t leave it cus of me.”

“It’s not important,”

“Yeah it is. It’s traditional.”

“Hah, ohkay, fine. I can do it later.”

“I started out ohkay.” Bucky stated, Steve caught the petulant look in his eye. Yeah, Bucky was frustrated and as always he was aiming all of that inwards. Steve knew them well, had seen them in himself a lot recently.

“You did. Maybe you can try again later, nothing stopping you.”

Bucky made a face, considered this for a moment, then said “Alright, later. Maybe”

“Good. Don’t forget to write it down.” Steve said, referring to the homework Sam had given him, working through negative experiences, getting to the underlying cause, the triggers, examining them and taking away the power they had over him. It was tiring work and sometimes Steve had to threaten to pull rank on Bucky and make him do it. Mostly Steve found Bucky already writing away.

“Alright,” Bucky said. Steve could tell he wanted to say something more or ask something, and, knowing Bucky the way he did, he spared him the awkwardness of not quite being able to ask for what he wanted just then.

“Come’ere.” Steve said, reaching up with his arms and using Bucky to pull himself upright a little more so that he could pull Bucky into a hug. He worried briefly that Bucky might be feeling squished by both him and the blanket, but his fears were proved unfounded as he felt Bucky’s arms wrap around him in return and Bucky’s head tuck into his shoulder. Steve sighed, so the pumpkin carving hadn’t gone quite to plan, but that was ohkay, they’d work through it. No-one had been stabbed and no pumpkins had been thrown, so he decided that while it couldn’t be counted properly as a win, it wasn’t a complete disaster either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm really sorry, I sat down to write a happy little story where there would be pumpkin carving and banter and as I did so I realised that hey, the insides of pumpkins are kinda gross. And also hey, taking a knife to something like that? So full of potential triggers there for poor Bucky. And thus...this happened.


	3. Longer Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longer evenings mean more snuggling time, dark mornings mean wanting more snuggling time even if you have to get up!

_Evening:_

“Wait, what time is it?” Bucky asked.

Steve glanced at the timer on the oven. “6:30.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Damn.”  
“Problem?” Steve asked, Bucky was staring out the window, leaning on the counter. Steve was opposite him, a deck of cards laid out between them, cookies baking in the oven behind them.

“No, just, I guess I didn’t realise it got so dark so early here.”

“Yeah, comes in quick, huh.”

“S’actually pretty nice. Makes it feel like there’s more time to lounge about.”

Steve smiled a little at that. It was Bucky’s way of saying that he was relieved that the social engagements would be a little more confined to the compound and grounds. Steve knew that feeling. Summer things were lovely, but it was nice to not have the pressure to be out all the time. He hadn’t ever entirely gotten used to it and he wasn’t really expecting too. He thought it might have been a little selfish of him to be relieved that Bucky felt similarly. They could use each other as an excuse for more cosy nights in.

“You know Natasha’s going to want us to go out with her at some point, right?”

“She likes to play hard, doesn’t she?”

“Well she works hard. She knows how to enjoy her time off.”

“So long as it’s not those clubs again.” Bucky said, making a face at the thought of it. They’d tried a nightclub once. Once. It hadn’t been a fun experience.

“So, once I’ve finished thrashing you here, what’s the plan?” Bucky said, laying down another card. Steve was about to sass him back but noticed that with this latest hand Bucky was in fact thrashing him.

“If you want a cosy evening in we could find some films, eat a whole load of cookies and make a vat of hot chocolate?”

“Sounds good. Just us or…?”

“We can hole up in my room if you’d like, but once everyone smells these cookies we might have to barricade the door.”

“I don’t mind so much, if people wanna join us.”

Steve fought to keep the grin from spreading too eagerly over his face. That was huge, huge progress for Bucky. He was so proud, but, if he made a big deal out of it Bucky might balk at the idea.

“Better sound system in the common room.” Steve said, keeping his jubilation low key for now.

Later on, a small gathering had formed in the common room. Bucky and Steve were in one corner of the sofa, Sam stretched himself out on the other side. Natasha turned up, dressed in a soft dressing gown and slippers, a towel wrapped around her head and slippers on her feet. She gave them a hard warning look and took two of the cookies before settling into one of the arm chairs.

“how come whenever I give you guys that look it never works and you just keep teasing me anyway?” Steve grumbled.

“You’re not a scary Russian spy, Steve.” Sam said.

“You’re not scary at all.” Bucky chimed in.

“It’s scary how many of those he’s put away.” Clint piped up. He was perched in the other armchair, having just had to move his feet off the seat Natasha had just filled.

Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose in despair and settled in for what would prove to be a quietly entertaining night filled with more teasing and a few more movies than they really intended.

At some point Steve felt Bucky leaning into him, asking for comfort without speaking. Steve put his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and was only slightly surprised when Bucky turned to curl right into his side.

Steve had read his file, and he had a vivid imagination. He knew that in his time with HYDRA every single touch Bucky had received had been harmful in some way. Either through harsh training and twisted discipline as they made him their weapon, or else hands of people who should have at the very least questioned what evils they were doing to a fellow human being. He couldn’t think too much about it, it made his stomach burn with a fiery rage and his hands twitch with the need to fight. And if it was that bad for him, he dreaded to think of the things that kept Bucky awake so often.

But now wasn’t the time or the place. As much as he wanted to, there wasn’t anything that he could do to change what had happened, but he could ensure that Bucky had more positive touches than torture, and more comfort than pain. So he unashamedly pulled Bucky closer, letting his left hand rest in the middle of Bucky’s back and brought his other arm around to rest on Bucky’s arm. He caught Sam and Natasha sharing a pointed look.

“If you’ve got something to say, Romanoff…” Steve began. Natasha played dumb, shaking her head and giving him an innocent expression he totally didn’t fall for.

“It’s cute.” Sam said, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Everyone likes a bit of a cu-ARGH!” He was cut off by Bucky using his foot to flip a cushion that had fallen onto the floor up into his hand and throwing it with some force right at Sam’s head. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle in appreciation of his speed and aim. He hadn’t even uncurled from Steve’s side. He settled into the movie again, thinking that Bucky was right and that the longer nights would be a blessing and generally feeling better about the oncoming winter months than he could ever remember feeling.

  

_Morning:_

Steve’s alarm woke him, startling him from comfortable sleep. He reached back behind him and turned it off, mostly on reflex and mostly still asleep. He turned back over and sighed, snuggling in. It was too dark for it to be morning already, despite what the alarm said. Bucky made a sleeping grumbling noise and Steve wrapped his arm around him a little tighter, reassuring him.

He knew he should get up and go for his run, but he also knew that outside of the bed it would be colder and outside would be frosty. He stretched his legs out right down to his toes feeling Bucky press back into his chest. Maybe he could skip the run today….

Steve groaned, he would only feel bad about it later, and there was high chance that Sam would give him hell for it for the whole day if he didn’t show.

He regretted having to pull himself away from the warmth he and Bucky shared but it had to be done. He sat and rubbed his eyes and yawned, willing himself to wake up. Bucky turned over and curled around Steve, making another sleepy noise. Bucky was largely non-verbal first thing in the morning.

Steve reached back so he could ruffle Bucky’s hair. “Good morning.” He said softly. Bucky tightened his grip around Steve’s waist in response. Clearly he didn’t want to lose his personal human sized heater.

“You could always come along too, y’know.” Steve suggested. Bucky shook his head. Steve smiled, resigned. He’d been trying to get Bucky along on his morning runs with Sam for a while now. He wasn’t sure if it was the company, or being out and about in the world or something else that kept Bucky away  
“Ohkay then, but you gotta lemme up then.”

Bucky squeezed him once more, but then pushed him out of bed with a petulant air. Steve laughed as he barely saved himself from a painful fall. His bed wasn’t that high off the ground but he didn’t fancy explaining any injuries sustained overnight. The team teased him enough, he didn’t want to give them any more ammo. Bucky had curled himself into a ball in the warm spot Steve had just left and buried himself under the covers. Steve smiled, knowing that when he came back he’d find Bucky either finishing off his own workout or fixing them some breakfast, despite how dead to the world he appeared now.

A short while later, waited for Sam to join him outside the compound. A thin layer of frost covered the grassy lawns and grounds, there was a mist forming and the sun was just beginning to rise. Steve was warming up when Sam trotted over, somehow managing to look as bright as ever.

“Mornin’ Cap. Man, we’re gonna need to dig out those headlights soon.” Sam observed.

“You’re not wrong there. You ready?”

“As ever.” Sam grinned. “Still no joy with Barnes?”

Steve shook his head and they started a steady jog. “I think maybe he’s letting me keep this as something I can have just for myself, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get it. So you can have time to yourself where you don’t have to feel like you’re watching him.”

“I don’t baby him.” Steve protested

“No, but when he’s out with us you look out for him. You’re hyper-responsible for the people around you, we’ve talked about that.”

Steve didn’t reply but managed to give Sam a sidelong glance as he kept his pace to match Sam’s”

“Hey man, it’s a good thing, it’s what a good team leader does, and beside that you’re a natural protector. S’how you got where you are now, right? So Barnes is just trying to give you time off form that. It’s kinda sweet.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“He’s doing really good.” Sam said as they picked up their pace. The sun was rising in full now, making the frost sparkle and the foggy breath from their lungs more visible in the chilly air.

“I wish I could do more though.” Steve said. Sam ignored that one, they’d talked about that too.

“You’re doing really good too, by the way.” Sam said. Steve smiled shyly, Sam liked to tell him this occasionally, he hadn’t really told Sam how much he appreciated the encouragement. Sam probably knew anyway. He looked over at Sam with a challenging glint in his eye, Sam started shaking his head, a grin spreading across his face.

“Don’t you even think it!”

Steve grinned back and put on the speed he knew Sam wouldn’t be able to match.

 


	4. Black Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post ca:tws, fairly soon after. Bucky's on the run, hiding. He makes a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend listening to something like rainymood whilst reading this one, for added atmosphere!

Rain was falling. His eyes were closed; he was trying to remember how to sleep. He listened to the rain falling all around, on the fire escape and the junk he’d used to construct a shelter. He shivered. It was cold and wet. He’d been cold and wet so many times but there was always a mission to keep him going.

Protecting Steve. Hunting HYDRA. Fighting for breath at the bottom of a cavern. Fighting. Hunting for HYDRA. Now, escaping, hiding, fleeing. Not going back, not killing for anyone

He pulled his jacket tighter around him and shuffled further back to avoid the trickle of water falling off the edge of his little roof.

He breathed deep and slow, trying not to think, just listening to the rain. Even though being wet was miserable, at least the rain falling was something to focus on, a good, quiet distraction from the noise in his head and his heart. When it was morning he’d have to continue on his way. It wasn’t safe to stay in one place too long, the rain would help wash away any traces, would mean everyone else would have their hoods up and he’d be harder to spot in a crowd.

He could figure out exactly where to go when it was light. For now, he concentrated on the sound of the rain, trying not to remember the sound it made on the canvas, the way it had felt cosy all tucked up inside a small tent despite there being a war on. Just the rain, where it was falling now.

He must have dozed, time passed. The street below and around the corner was quieter, less foot traffic, the night air held the quiet of many people sleeping peacefully in their beds. He knew this quiet time of night well.

If he let drowsiness weigh his eyes down again, perhaps he would simply drift off to sleep properly this time. He had too memories of too many nights like this, but there had been small camp fires and tents, warm bodies and shared griping and laughter. He remembered when he’d had a proper roof and he hadn’t been shivering because there was warmth all around him. But he also remembered he’d been in places where it was too cold for rain and it only ever snowed and everything was white and grey and the cold bit before it soothed. He had too many memories with too many gaps in-between.

He shifted, trying to stop his mind going places he didn’t want to go when a sudden movement startled him into full wakefulness again. He had raised his metal arm up to defend himself and with his other hand reached for his knife when his brain registered the moving thing properly. A slender black cat was staring at him with large eyes, almost as startled as he was.

They were both still, regarding the other warily. When he didn’t move, the cat cautiously crept closer. So, moving very slowly, he put his knife away and let his metal arm fall back, tucked into his chest. The movement still spooked the cat who stilled it’s creeping to watch him. It’s tail and back muscles twitched as the rain drops fell on it. Bucky wanted to shuffle back, make room. There was room under his shelter for the cat. But it waited, watching.

Eventually, after a long minute, the cat crawled in under the shelter and curled up near his feet. He watched as it promptly started to lick itself dry, emitting a faint but steady thrumming purr. He hadn’t pet a friendly animal in so long. His hands twitched with the desire to reach out and stroke its fur, but he didn’t. The cat was wet and taking care of itself and probably wouldn’t appreciate him rubbing the rain water further into its coat. He didn’t want to spook it and send it running out into the rain. Instead, he lay still and wondered if tonight would hold any sleep for him.

Soggy leaves cluttered the alley below him turning into brown mush in the wet. He missed the dry crispness of walking through them a couple of days ago, in the trees, just out of sight of the road.

He looked down at the cat, extending its long legs and licking all the way down between its toes.

He wondered if the cat was hungry. It had taken him a long time to remember what feeling hungry really meant and now he felt it all the time. He found enough to survive, to keep going, but it was never enough to completely satisfy. He thought that maybe he’d always been that way.

The cat ignored him and groomed itself thoroughly from head to toe, he watched until it curled up into a tight ball and hid it’s face behind its tail. It looked well fed, he didn’t need to give it anything to eat. It could fend for itself, it might even have a home. He didn’t have one any more. But he too could fend for himself. He knew where there were safe-houses he could raid if he needed to. But he also knew that it was safer for him to get by without those easy pickings. He couldn’t risk going back. They would want their asset and he wasn’t that any more.

He wasn’t sure what that meant.

He wasn’t quite sure who he was anymore.

He watched the sleeping cat until it’s purring trailed off and then he kept watching its little body rising and falling with sleep until he felt himself drifting off as well.

 

When morning dawned it came slowly. The rain had stopped but the sky was still heavy and over cast, it might rain again later. If he could get moving now, he might generate enough heat to fully dry out before it started again. The cat was still at his feet, now uncurled a little, feet stretched out and touching his ankles. Gingerly, he sat up. It had stayed the whole night. Maybe....maybe he could…. he reached out slowly with his flesh hand until it hovered just above the cat, then, gently, he let his hand rest on its head. It made a strange little muted chirrup noise like a bird and stretched its limbs out before relaxing again. He petted its smooth fur, now dry and soft. The purring started again and this time he could feel the vibrations as well as hear them. It was a bit of an awkward angle for him, so he tentatively switched to his metal hand and was surprised when the cat didn’t seem to mind. The cat was good. He didn’t remember ever owning one, but he thought that maybe he would have liked to. He couldn’t now, he needed someplace warm and dry and safe for that. So he let himself have a few moments with the cat, just stroking its fur gently, letting it rub it’s face against his hands and his ankles.

When he stopped and moved to get up, the cat stayed where it was but stared up at him with those green eyes again. He smiled at it as a way of thanking it for keeping him company. He gathered his backpack and stretched the stiffness and cold from his aching muscles so that he would be able to get down from his hiding place safely. He decided it was ohkay to leave this shelter up. It wouldn’t give away anything to the people he knew were trying to track him, if they found it at all. And he could let the cat be safe and dry for as long as it wanted to be there. He bent to stroke it one last time, scratching a little behind it’s ears before he carefully vaulted over the railing and landed quietly in the alley. If he was quick, he could get out of town before the bulk of the morning traffic filtered through. He would leave unseen, save for a little black cat.


	5. Sweaters and Bonfires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers have a bonfire, all tucked up in sweaters and cosy things. Steve wants Bucky to be happy, Natasha is very persuasive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with the previous chapter, you might like to find a cosy fireplace on youtube to listen to whilst reading this chapter for added atmosphere!

“I can’t believe they let us get away with this.” Sam mused, the light of the bonfire flickering in his eyes.

“I warned them not to let Thor help bring in the wood.” Steve shook his head, slightly ruefully. The bonfire was huge. Actually, not exaggerating in the slightest bit, huge. Thor himself was now chatting merrily away with Bruce, his arm casually around Jane’s waist. 

“Hey, the guy wanted to help, learning about strange Midgardian customs and all that.” Tony piped up. “Besides, turns out all this stuff needed burning anyway, might as well make a proper thing of it.”

“Yeah, but surely we’re violating some kind of health and safety codes…” Sam wondered. Tony shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’s our compound. What are they gonna do?”

“I dunno, assume we’re under attack and send the fire department out in their droves?” Sam took a swig of his drink as Tony waved a dismissive hand at him.

“Friday? Keep an eye out for burley Firemen hurrying here to rescue us. I’ll need to make sure Pepper’s occupied. Can’t have her getting carried away.”

“Or the press thinking there’s something going on and crashing our weekend off.” Sam pointed out.

“That to.” Tony quipped, heading off to grab a beer and presumably to find Pepper.

Natasha sidled up to Steve, bumping his elbow gently in greeting. “Caught you looking.” She said, a teasing smile on her lips.

“Huh?” Steve turned back to her, eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Want me to give it a try?” She gestured to the compound behind her. More accurately, to the large glass French doors where Steve had seen Bucky sulking in the shadows. Steve sighed, he’d tried convincing Bucky to come out and enjoy the bonfire with the rest of them, but Bucky had refused, going all quiet and withdrawn.

“I dunno. I don’t want to force him out, if he wants to stay inside he can. Not like he can’t see it from there.”

“Seeing’s not the same as feeling though, is it.” She pointed out. Steve ducked his head in agreement.

“Okay. Be my guest.” He said, looking back up at her.

“Just don’t watch, okay? You look like a sad dog.” Steve had a second to give her an indignant expression before she stalked back to the compound. Sam chuckled at him.

“She’s right you know.”

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up Sam.”  

“You remember me telling you about how recovery isn’t a linear process?” He looked over at Steve, studying his profile in the firelight.

“Yeah, I know Sam.”

“So, let yourself chill a bit. Either he comes out and enjoys the fire with us, or, he stays inside and enjoys watching from a distance. Either way is fine. Bucky knows his limits better than you do.”

“I know.”

“Ohkay then, you’re allowed to enjoy this. Even if he doesn’t.”

“Since when did every conversation I have with you turn into a therapy session?”

“Just reminding you.”

“Thank you, Sam. Really. I wouldn’t even have him back if it weren’t for you.”

“And I’m so glad to have him around to.” Sam groaned. Steve chuckled at that, one of his new favourite games was keeping score between Sam and Bucky. He knew their teasing was genial, it was a good camaraderie, a little bit like in the war.   

He soon went back to watching the fire quietly, enjoying the warmth, the colours, the smells…. Despite everyone living together at the compound, it was rare they were all together and not preoccupied with something. There was always work to be done, training, practising, averting disasters of various kinds, missions, counter-espionage… always another HYDRA head to cut off. So, for everyone to be in one place, and not have it be a particularly special occasion? Well, that called for a fun weekend. It helped that a little copse of trees on-site had been severely damaged in their latest spate of adventures and had given way to rot, leaving them with a hefty amount of wood to get through, a bonfire had seemed like a pretty novel idea.

He watched the fire until his enhanced hearing picked up the sound of the big French doors opening and closing he kept himself from turning around and instead listened to two pairs of almost silent footsteps approaching. Sam rolled his eyes, noting Steve’s grin out of the corner of his eye.

This time it was Bucky who sidled up to Steve, bumping his left side. And this time, Steve bumped back, Bucky barely shifted.

“Hey. Warm enough?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded. He was wearing one of the soft, warm sweaters he’d acquired since coming to live at the compound with the rest of them. Steve bit back the question on his lips, he didn’t need to know what Natasha had said or done to convince him to join everyone, even though he really wanted to know. Natasha had pulled up on Bucky’s other side, close but not crowding. Steve shot her a grateful look over Bucky’s head, to which she rolled her eyes.

Sam immediately started up an inane conversation, drawing attention away from Bucky and drawing Steve’s thoughts away from worry for a good long while. They managed to convince Tony not to add anymore accelerant onto the fire and everyone marvelled at the amount of toasted marshmallows Thor was able to put away.

Eventually, everyone gathered together on some picnic blankets, a little closer to the bonfire now that it was staring to burn down to a level most regular folks would consider normal. Bucky had stayed glued to Steve’s side, quiet and withdrawn, his hands hidden in the long sleeves of his sweater. But the wary tension that had thrummed through him when he first came out had dissipated and he seemed relaxed enough, watching the antics happen around him, watching the flames flickering. Steve pulled his own sleeves down over his hands, though since the serum he ran warm almost constantly. It was a comfort thing, just wanting to feel cosy.

Tony must have done something to the automatic exterior lights as the grounds were only illuminated by the fire. Sam pulled his hood up and pulled his knees in, Natasha found a long stick and prodded the embers at the base of the fire whilst lounging propped up on one elbow, still on Bucky’s other side. Steve wanted to paint the way the fire glowed in Natasha’s hair, the colour it made on Sam’s skin, the way it glinted in Tony’s wide smile, the warmth he felt in his bones, the embodied stillness of Bucky sitting next to him. He breathed deep, closed his eyes, trying to fix those images and sensations in his mind for later.


End file.
